They grow on trees. No, they really do.

Three pairs of basic crocheted fingerless mittens, made for my father, my mother and my yarn guru Liz. The pair made for Liz required much fussing and faffing with two not-quite-matching skeins of Noro Kureyon to produce the near-identical twins you see here.

I do wonder whether any of my neighbours witnessed me hanging hand-crocheted mittens from trees; and, if they did, whether they were at all surprised by my behaviour. By now, one likes to imagine they were not.

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